


Lacuna

by saltedpin



Category: Dissidia: Final Fantasy
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-03
Updated: 2011-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedpin/pseuds/saltedpin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kain had to wonder if he actually enjoyed wanting things he knew he could not have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacuna

**Author's Note:**

> I have taken some liberties with the FFIV flashbacks! I know this may be bothersome! The script and how the scene plays out differ from remake to remake though, so I guess I didn't mind doing it.
> 
> HUGE, HUGE thanks to Apathy for the beta and all her help <3

**I.**

He was walking through a mist.

Behind him, a city burned to rubble. He was all but oblivious, aware only of the heft of the lance in his hand, and the man who stood before him, the look of shock and disbelief on his face.

_Kain? What are you doing? Where did you go after -- I thought that --_

He saw his own hands raising his lance, felt his body draw back... he watched himself strike down the man, sending him sprawling and knocking away his helm. Kain stood over him, the look of utter confusion still plastered across the other man's face. For a moment he hesitated, something tugging at his mind, asking, _begging_ his arm not to rise for the killing blow -- but then he felt the force of something dark and powerful surge through his veins, coiling around the sinew of his muscle --

\-- He woke as he always did, with his heart hammering against his ribcage, his clothes soaked through with sweat. Closing his eyes, Kain waited for his breathing to slow, the air from his lungs spooling away from him, white in the cold air. The man in the dream was no one he recognised; he was tall, white hair flowing from beneath the dark helm he wore. Kain had never seen him before, and did not even know his name -- yet he was there in every dream, always the same, always calling Kain by name and staring in shock as Kain raised his arm to strike him.

The dream played out as vividly as a memory, except those nights when he was too exhausted even to dream. Knowing this, it was tempting to walk or fight until he dropped.

Kain sat up, his desire for sleep entirely gone. The coals of the fire were still glowing; he probably had not slept more than an hour or two. Behind him, he heard the slight clink of armour as his travelling companion shifted where he sat.

"You should be sleeping."

Kain let out a low laugh. "I'm not tired. I can take over the watch if you wish."

The Warrior of Light did not reply. Kain stood, reaching for his lance. His muscles protested every move, seeming half-dead from cold and fatigue.

"Do not trouble yourself," the Warrior eventually said. "You require rest. I can --"

Kain shook his head. "I'm awake now. I can at least keep you company." In the darkness, he sneered slightly. "You can tell me a story, if you're inclined to be talkative."

The sarcasm, as usual, seemed to fly straight over the Warrior of Light's helmeted head. "I don't know any stories, and talking may distract us from an enemy approach," he said, with no apparent trace of irony.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Kain instead picked up a stick and poked at the fire, attempting to prompt it into providing him with at least a little more heat. He pulled the thin blanket they had been provided around his shoulders, and sat, looking into the fire, until it was his turn to take over the watch.

The Warrior of Light always slept like the dead.

**II.**

The evening cold that spread crystal clear across the Elven Snowfields settled in for the night, re-freezing the snow that had loosened during the mild sun of the day, and seeping into the dark earth below. There was no way of escaping it.

Kain had hoped that they would be beyond the snow before the end of the day, but the warmth of the sun, meagre though it had been, had slowed them down, turning the previously hard snow to slush that became liquid beneath his tread and had to be waded through, sending icy needles up through his armour, into the soles of his feet.

Pausing, he glanced up at the horizon where the last remnants of daylight were fading. The air here was always unnaturally still -- there was never so much as a breeze from the oceans, nor any hint of wind, even between the mountain peaks he'd explored in the early days of his time here. The water lapped at the shores of the bay and the rain fell in torrents at times, but the air was dead, like he was sealed in a bottle. The sky of this world was not the limitless expanse that, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it should be; it was oppressive and enclosing, and he felt sometimes that he could feel it staring eyelessly down at his back, not clear and pure, but dark, hateful and cruel. It would not shelter him, but swallow him whole, leaving no trace.

He had fought enough battles by now to know that it was fighting that seemed to unlock whatever was holding his memories back. They were muddled, for the most part, but some were blinding in their clarity. In his mind's eye, he saw sunshine trickling through blonde hair that fell in waves down a woman's back, saw his own hand reaching out for it, though he knew it was beyond his reach -- before her head turned, her face broke into a smile at the sight of him, and her voice said, _'Kain --'_

That was where it ended. Over and over, he saw that head turn towards him, a stuttering image thrown free of any context. At first, he had imagined that he was looking at the image of a wife or a lover; but eventually he had realised that it was two voices rather than one that were saying his name. The field of his vision expanded to include a man, tall, white-haired, the same man he had watched himself strike down over and over again in his dream -- but here, his smile was just as wide as that of the woman whose hand he was holding, whom he then turned his head to kiss.

Memories were as much a cage as the unnaturally still sky, but it seemed that once they had started, they could not be stopped. They pulled at each other like threads, a tapestry re-ravelling itself. If he could have gone back to that one, repeating image of the woman and her smile, he would have. But in the nights that followed, turning over those memories in his mind, imagining those faces turned towards him with looks of such love and trust that he thought it would break him in two, he realised that he didn't know which one of them he wanted more.

**III.**

"You two are a bad influence on each other," Laguna said when he found Kain and the Warrior of Light sparring a short distance from the camp. "All work and no play... or something like that." He trailed off mildly as Kain struck his lance between the claw and the blade of the Warrior's sword, twisting it and sending the weapon flying from his hand, and the Warrior himself badly off-balance.

Taking advantage of the momentary slip, Kain struck the Warrior across the shoulder with the blunt side of his lance, then planted his foot in the middle of his chest, forcing him onto his back in the dirt.

In the moment that followed, it was all Kain could do not to gasp as the Warrior of Light's helmet slid off, and his white hair -- _but it's too dark, it's not right_ \-- spilled out from beneath it.

Cold sweat broke out across Kain's forehead, and he gripped his lance tightly, forcing his mind back to the here and now.

"Do you yield?" he managed to get out between gritted teeth.

"Yield," the Warrior said, his arms by his sides, not resisting the downward pressure of Kain's step.

"Well, when you two have finished," Laguna continued as Kain helped the Warrior to his feet, "Tifa and Vaan have made... well, it's something, anyway. Dinner isn't what it used to be."

**IV.**

Arms wound around his back, pulling him down into a soft embrace. Kain neither resisted nor hesitated -- everything in him bent towards the body below his, her blonde hair coiling across the pillow like a shining river.

 _Is this truly what you want, Kain?_ she asked, her voice gentle enough to break him.

 _By God, yes,_ he said, burying his face in her hair, breathing in her fragrance, running his fingers over the smooth skin of her shoulders, the light, downy hairs on her upper arms. _Rosa, you don't know how long I've wanted --_

 _And this?_ Kain started slightly at the voice behind him -- turning his head, his vision was partially obscured by a sweep of long, white hair. Strong arms curled around his shoulders, pulling him back.

 _Cecil..._ Kain said, hearing himself stutter. _I -- I am sorry --_

Cecil just laughed, soft and low. _It is well, my friend. You have nothing to apologise for._ Kain unsuccessfully tried to hold back a groan as Cecil's teeth grazed the sinew between his neck and shoulder. _But tell me, is this what you want?_

 _Of course,_ Kain heard himself say, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper, reaching back to wrap his fingers around the back of his friend's head. He started when he heard Cecil let out a low laugh, his voice cold and deep. Looking down, Kain realised that Rosa had vanished, and the arms that had been embracing him had become dark coils of nothingness, pinning his arms to his side. He tried to lurch away in shock, but he was frozen in place, his muscles refusing to respond to his brain.

 _So that_ is _what you're after... how pitiful. How disgusting. To use your friends like whores..._ That same low, cold voice sounded in his ear again. He felt the air compress around him and his eyes forced open, looking up into --

"Kain --"

He lurched upwards, the cold air a shock against his skin, sweat sluicing down his sides. His arm instinctively struck out at the figure above him, knocking away the hand on his shoulder.

His mind reeled in shock at the sound of his name, but his muscles were running on instinct as he swept his legs to the side, knocking the man above him down and flipping him over. He felt an iron grip around his wrist, and his body finally caught up with his mind when he heard his name for the second time.

"Kain. Stop this. Now."

At the sound of that calm, measured tone, Kain withdrew himself, sitting back on his haunches, allowing the Warrior of Light to rise. "You were dreaming," the Warrior said.

"I am aware," Kain muttered. Crouching, he turned away slightly from the Warrior, also aware that his abrupt awakening and the cold air had done nothing to subdue the residual hardness at his groin. Behind him, he heard the Warrior clear his throat uncomfortably, and he wondered just how much he had seen and heard before waking him.

"My apologies," he said, not turning to face him. "My dreams... it seems there's no respite, even here."

The Warrior of Light said nothing. Kain glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, watching as he stared into the campfire, his face a blank.

"I never dream," he eventually said, turning to face Kain.

"Thank whoever you wish for small mercies," Kain said. He waited a few moments more, then stood and came to sit next to the Warrior of Light, crouching by the tiny glow of the fire. "There are things that I would rather not have remembered, but it seems my dreaming mind has other plans."

"Your memories should be precious to you, whatever they may be." Kain caught a surprisingly hard edge in the Warrior's tone, but could not resist curling his lip in contempt. What on earth did this man know of memories -- of regrets?

Kain shook his head. "Without memories, you can be free. Your choices haven't already been made."

"A choice..." the Warrior of Light repeated softly, staring down into the fire. He was silent for a short while. "And what was _your_ choice?" he eventually asked, looking Kain in the eye. Kain's throat constricted; his dream playing suddenly across his mind.

"Where I come from, I am neither a good nor trustworthy man," he said. "The choices I made... reflected this."

"We are all entitled to our faults, Kain. It is the light that --"

Kain couldn't help but laugh. "The light," he muttered. "There is some darkness that not even _your_ light can pierce."

The Warrior of Light was silent. Kain waited for him to respond with one of his usual platitudes, but instead, he simply gave him an impenetrable look, before standing and walking away.

**V.**

The heat and stillness were stifling.

The red glow in the sky that seemed to signal neither sunrise nor sunset bore down, turning everything to ash and dust. Once, Kain had stumbled while traversing a thin bridge of land between two lava pits, only just managing to prevent both himself and the Warrior of Light from toppling in. As he had watched, the fine ends of the Warrior's hair had curled violently upwards, singed in the heat.

"This isn't practical," the Warrior had said when Kain sat them both down to rest in the lee side of a mountain pass, beyond the worst of the volcanic lands.

"Practicality is not my concern here."

The Warrior's eyes flickered down, and then back up to Kain's face. "You're not capable of sustaining --"

Kain cut him short with a wave of his hand. "Let me decide what I'm capable of."

The Warrior fell silent, leaning back against the mountainside and closing his eyes. Kain could see dark blood trickling down his left arm and dripping off the ends of his fingers. As bad as the wound was, it was not half as bad as when Kain had found him, with only half a potion left and woefully inadequate bandaging. The only reason he had been out looking for him at all was due to Tifa's prodding, insisting that the Warrior was such a stickler for punctuality that something must have gone badly wrong for him to be more than a day late back from patrol.

The sky at last seemed to be darkening, and though he was loath to admit it, Kain knew that he needed rest. The heat made starting a campfire unthinkable, and in any case, drawing any attention to themselves so close to the Land of Discord was unwise. Kain removed his helm, his hair feeling full of grit and sweat.

Sitting, he planted the end of his lance in the dirt, gripping it with both hands, intending to keep himself awake through sheer force of will. "You know I can't allow you to sleep," he said.

The Warrior's eyes flickered open. "I know."

Kain sat in silence. Several times he was snapped awake by the touch of his forehead against his lance, and every time it was more difficult to re-orient himself to his surroundings.

"Kain."

He looked up at the Warrior of Light, wondering if he had noticed his struggle to stay awake.

"Tell me about what you remember."

Kain laughed softly. As a diversionary tactic, it was one of the Warrior's subtler ones -- and Kain had never known him to be subtle.

"It is... unclear."

"But you _do_ remember."

Kain's mouth twitched. "There was a woman."

From the corner of his eye, Kain saw the Warrior glance up at him, blinking. "I see."

Kain smiled, but it was sour. "And a man."

Kain could see the Warrior's forehead furrow, trying to figure out if he was being obtuse. "Yourself?" he eventually asked.

Kain laughed. "If only," he said. "No. They were both... worthier."

In the darkness, Kain saw the Warrior's features settle into that look that meant he was turning things over in his mind, and perhaps trying to make connections to his own lost memories.

"You were summoned by Cosmos," the Warrior said. "You were worthy enough for that."

Kain could not stop the slight sneer from sliding over his features. "Perhaps," he said, knowing, as he did, that this was probably the highest form of praise the Warrior could come up with -- what other frame of reference did he have? "Nonetheless. I know what I am, and what I did. I wanted too many things, and I ended up with nothing."

"The things that you wanted..." The Warrior of Light cut himself off, raising his hand to his injured shoulder and wincing slightly.

Kain laughed lowly. "The woman." He paused briefly. " _And_ the man."

Kain watched the Warrior's face, but it betrayed nothing. He did not return Kain's gaze, but sat silently, the growing dark falling across his face.

**VI.**

Despite all their time spent together at close quarters, Kain still found the sight of the Warrior of Light doing something as domestic as washing his clothes slightly disconcerting. Where he had come from, washing clothing was not something he had ever had to deal with -- his garments were sent away, and came back clean, as were every dragoon officer's. It had rankled on him to do it himself, not least because of the time he had come by the river, believing himself to be alone, and had surprised Yuna and Tifa bathing.

The Warrior knelt by the stream with his hair pulled back in a loose queue, wrapped around itself and lying between his shoulder blades, cold and white, tinged red in the sunset. As Kain watched, clouds of red spread through the water, too -- the dried blood that the Warrior was washing from the black tunic he wore beneath his armour. Kain saw the muscle of the Warrior's back move beneath his skin as he stood and turned towards him, the scar that ran from just above his armpit, across his chest and over his ribs, stopping just short of his stomach, standing out lividly against his skin. Lightning was skilled enough in healing magic, but the wound had been several days old by the time Kain had returned him to camp, and scars were notoriously difficult to eradicate.

"Please go ahead if you intend to bathe," the Warrior said to him, walking up the bank with his sodden tunic. "I've finished here."

Kain did not answer, but in the moment after the Warrior walked by him, turned his head to watch him go.

**VII.**

Kain wanted a lot of things.

He wanted a future that could never be his, an end to the loneliness he believed he had no right to feel. He wanted to wake up in his own bed, to see the places and the people he was familiar with. He wanted to feel the cool air and see the sky over Baron, to leap into it knowing it was limitless, and that he knew exactly how to move within it. He wanted absolution for the things he only barely remembered he had done. He wanted. He _wanted_.

He barely ever woke up now with his heart thumping in his chest, a cold sense of dread creeping over him, still seeing in his mind the eyes of some _thing_ gazing back at him. When he dreamed, he still held handfuls of white hair, but the body changed beneath his touch.

 _Cecil,_ he began to say, but found the face that looked up at him had changed --

\-- When Kain woke, he had to wonder if he actually enjoyed wanting things he knew he could not have.

**VIII.**

"Won't you join us, Sir Kain?"

Kain turned at the sound of Yuna's voice. He had been standing alone for some time now, looking at the horizon.

"No, thank you, my lady," he said. "I'm not hungry."

Yuna smiled slightly, a dimple creasing her cheek. "I thought you might say that, which is why I brought the food to you." She moved back one of her long sleeves, holding out a bowl of soup to him, motioning for him to sit down. He took it from her, sipping it as she sat down next to him.

"I think you're too often alone," she said to him, gathering the long folds of her dress beneath her legs. "You and Sir Warrior of Light both. I worry for you."

"There is no need of that, my lady," Kain began to say, before a hand thumped down on his shoulder, almost making him spill his soup.

"There you are, Sir Broods-a-lot," Laguna said, sitting down on Kain's other side. "When Yuna said she was going looking for you, I told her you'd want to be alone, but there's no stopping her when she spies a gentleman in distress."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Kain said dryly, placing his soup to one side, his appetite vanished.

"Oh, please. I know you enjoy being the tall, dark and mysterious type, but even you have to admit you've been overdoing it these last few days."

Kain did not deign to respond.

**IX.**

The first time Kain spotted the armoured giant in black across the battlefield, his first instinct was to freeze. He temporarily lost any ability he previously had to will his muscles into movement. His blood ran like ice through his veins, cold terror seizing his heart, his lungs, his mind.

"Kain!" He heard a voice call his name before he was slammed to the ground, the Warrior of Light's armoured chest against his back as a Flare Star burned above their heads. In a moment, the Warrior had gone, and Kain scrambled up, dragging himself to his feet. His mind rebelled against the idea that this could be possible.

"Kain, we're leaving." A hand tugged at his arm. Kain turned to see Tifa, her face streaked with blood and dirt, her long hair free of its ponytail and hanging in her face. "There's too many. We _have_ to go."

Not far off, Kain could see Lightning presumably having the same conversation with the Warrior of Light, who was violently shaking his head. Over the sound of magic crackling in the air, he could hear Lightning's voice rise to a shout before she raised her gunblade, hitting him across the shoulder with the flat side. Whatever she said, coupled with whatever threat of violence she had apparently made, seemed to convince him and they moved together away from the field, Lightning casting blizzara over her shoulder to cover their escape.

When they had at last returned to Order's Sanctuary and he succumbed to irresistible fatigue, Kain dreamt again of the man he had seen -- the horned helmet loomed over him as he knelt on a cold stone floor, his arms limp by his sides, refusing to respond to his will. _Remember how weak you are,_ the man's voice echoed in Kain's mind. _You are weak and you are bound to fall. Your place is here by my side, as it always shall be._

 _That's not true,_ Kain heard himself say. _I was not --_

 _Have you really changed so very much?_ The horned figure's voice was as soft as velvet, weaving its way through his mind. _You have no secrets from me. I know what lusts you harbour in your heart._

_I do not --_

_Come now,_ the voice said. _Don't play so coy._

**X.**

The soft snowflakes that had fallen during the day had given way to hard, angry needles of sleet that seemed to pierce through clothing, skin and flesh, burying themselves deep in the marrow of his bones.

By now, Kain knew the lay of the snowfields like the back of his own hand. They had trudged through the melting snow to the shallow cave in the side of the mountain pass, a small semi-circle of shelter until the rain passed. Armour was no protection against this kind of weather -- both he and the Warrior were soaked through, the cold metal of their armour chilling to the touch.

Kain lit a meagre fire, resisting the urge to strip off his freezing, heavy armour, and looked to where the Warrior of Light sat, slumped against the wall of the cavern, slowly opening and closing the fingers of his left hand. Kain was more than aware that the injury the Warrior had received before he had found him that day in the Land of Discord still pained him from time to time, and cold like this would do it no good. Yuna had given him a compress of herbs that would ease the pain, but getting the Warrior to admit that he needed it was another thing entirely.

"You should come closer to the fire," Kain eventually said, when he saw the Warrior was not about to move from his place against the cold stone of the wall.

"I'm perfectly fine where I am," the Warrior muttered, never stopping the movement of his fingers.

Beneath his helm, Kain rolled his eyes, and, in a sudden flash of insight, realised what he himself must sound like most of the time. "Don't be such a fool, man," he said angrily, watching the Warrior's eyes flick open in mild surprise. "You're causing yourself unnecessary pain, and I have no intention of carrying you back to camp." He left the implication of _like last time_ hanging unspoken in the air between them. The Warrior of Light stood, bemused, and moved away from the wall.

"Do not try to pretend your arm isn't causing you pain," Kain muttered, not looking at him. "At least make use of Lady Yuna's gift to you."

The Warrior nodded, and Kain turned his head away, wishing he could block the sound of him setting his helmet down on the floor, unbuckling his cuirass, his pauldrons and his bracers, sliding his soaked tunic over his head. In the moment of silence that followed, Kain glanced up, watching as the Warrior, his back to him, held the compress of healing herbs against his shoulder, winding a long bandage around his torso to keep it in place. Kain watched the heavy muscle of his shoulder crease as he reached around his back, carefully passing the bandage between his hands and pulling it tight around him.

The bandage ended in the middle of his back, and, after struggling to tie it off for a moment or two, the Warrior eventually said, "Kain -- your assistance --"

Kain nodded and moved to him; raising his hand, he realised that his fingers were shaking as he took the end of the bandage and tied it neatly, wrapping the end underneath the section rolled around the Warrior of Light's torso. He had assumed the Warrior would be cold, but instead he found his skin was warm beneath his fingertips, heating even the beads of water that dripped from his hair and ran down his back.

"My thanks," the Warrior said when Kain removed his hands -- having lingered only slightly -- and moved away from him to sit by the fire, pulling a dry blanket from his supply pack and draping it over his shoulders, pulling his arms into his sides.

Looking at him, Kain realised how chilled to the bone he was, and he began the laborious process of removing his own armour, the mail beneath it, and the cloth beneath that, wringing it out onto the floor of the cave and laying it down by the fire, hoping it would dry quickly. He looked up to find the Warrior watching him with hooded eyes.

"Are you going to stare all night?" Kain asked irritably, knowing as he said it he was resorting to the cheapest form of self-defence, accusing others of what he knew he himself was guilty of.

"Not," the Warrior said quietly, "if you don't wish it."

For a moment, Kain did not react. Desire ran through him, quick and sudden, but even as it did so, he knew that the voice from his dream was right, and this was a weakness that would later have consequences.

"What I wish," Kain muttered, half to himself. "What I wish for and what is right are often at odds with each other." He injected his tone with as much sardonicism as he could manage. "If ever the twain did meet, I should be worried."

The Warrior of Light was silent for a time. "I have told you many times what I think of your persistent need to cast yourself in a bad light," he eventually said. "But I have seen you care for others in battle, and I have seen your kindness even when you call it something else. I have seen your determination to ensure we do not fail in our mission." He looked up at Kain, his eyes piercing. "You'd keep yourself unknowable, but I see the goodness in you, Kain, even if you refuse to see it yourself."

Kain closed his eyes, wishing as he did so that everything the Warrior said was true. He knew it was the same words that he had heard over and over from both Cecil and Rosa, and he had told himself that they were simply too good, and too blinded by their own goodness to see him as he truly was. Cecil had never known the true extent of his jealousy and hatred towards him; Rosa had never known of the things he wished for when he was alone in his quarters. Kain realised for a moment that perhaps the only person who had ever truly seen his mind stripped bare was Golbez. The thought sent a shudder through him, unwanted memories raking through his mind.

"I don't deny you your flaws," the Warrior said, and he was suddenly sitting very close to Kain's side, "but your chief one at this moment is making things complicated when they could be simple."

Kain attempted to look away, but the Warrior of Light raised his hands, resting them on his bare shoulders. Kain closed his eyes; the heat of the Warrior's hands sank into his muscles, and desire spiralled through his chest. With a barely perceptible groan, he leaned forward.

Kain had meant it to be soft -- but his whole body seemed to bend into the kiss, and he opened his mouth, hot and hungry, knowing this was not absolution but desiring it almost as much. Their teeth collided briefly as he shifted his weight, threading his hands through the Warrior's hair and pushing him down to the floor of the cave.

For a moment, Golbez's voice slid through his mind -- _Did you ever think you would be able to resist?_ \-- but he forced it away, swallowed it down in the midst of the kiss. The Warrior groaned into his mouth, and the sound seemed to run from him straight into Kain, shooting through every nerve in his body.

He could see the Warrior's pulse fluttering in his throat as he pulled back, drawing his hand down over the grid of his stomach muscles, fingers tracing over the scars that criss-crossed over the Warrior's abdomen -- tiny threads of white that were barely noticeable, and the one long, dark stripe across his chest, not entirely covered by the bandage. Kain had scars enough of his own; on him, they seemed ugly, a testament to a life that had not been well-lived, but on the Warrior, they almost seemed beautiful.

The Warrior of Light raised his arms, running his hands down the length of Kain's spine, over tightly coiled muscles and hard scar tissue. Kain threw his head back, his shoulder muscles bunching -- it had been so long since anyone outside of his dreams had touched him, and he had all but forgotten this almost sickening rush that set his blood on fire and made his nerves sing.

Kain shuddered as the calloused tips of the Warrior's fingers raked down over his hipbones, resting there lightly before tugging at the waist of the light breeches Kain wore beneath his mail. Kain swore beneath his breath as the cold air hit him; sitting back on his haunches, he slid open the Warrior's belt and unlaced his tasset. Arousal knifed through him as the Warrior of Light acquiescently lifted his hips to allow Kain to slide his lower body armour out from underneath him, and suddenly the cold no longer mattered -- there was only the warmth of the Warrior's body, radiating from him in waves and swallowing him whole.

He could not help himself -- he leaned down and kissed him, his mouth tasting of the salt of his sweat, yet somehow fresh and clean, like the rain that lashed the air outside. He felt the Warrior's knee hitch up over his leg, felt the hot hardness at his groin press into the muscles of his stomach. Kain did not know whether or with whom the Warrior of Light had ever done this before, but the arch of his body against Kain's seemed so practised that for a moment he had a hard time believing that it was the same man who so coolly directed them in battle, who presented himself to Cosmos as hers only to command.

Kain braced himself on one hand next to the Warrior's head, scrabbling in his pack with his other hand for a potion. He couldn't bring himself to care when he spilled half of it as he placed the cork between his teeth and _pulled_ \-- potion splashed over the Warrior's stomach, rolling down his side as he pulled in his breath. Kain had not wanted to think, but simply to _act_ , to bury himself in motion and heat and _forget_ \-- but now he found himself looking up into the Warrior's face, and he could not help but swallow thickly as he took in his flushed face, his hair, still wet, clinging to the sides of his face and his throat.

"Have you ever --" Kain began to ask.

"Maybe." The Warrior's eyes locked onto his. "I don't remember."

Kain had to look away -- the Warrior's gaze seemed to pierce him to his core. He smeared potion over his fingers, leaning over the Warrior's body and allowing the rush of lust to tear through him.

The Warrior hissed through his teeth when Kain pushed his fingers into him, worked them in and out. He watched as his face contorted in surprise or pain or pleasure, Kain couldn't be sure which. The muscles in the Warrior's neck corded as Kain pressed deeper, curling his fingers upwards. He gasped and arched upwards as Kain's fingers found what they were looking for, his eyes snapping open to stare at Kain in something close to shock. Kain couldn't help but let out a low laugh, withdrawing his fingers and leaning over him, pulling his leg up so the inside of his knee rested just above Kain's hip.

Kain could not hold back the groan as he pushed into him -- the tight heat enveloped him entirely, washing back over his whole body and drawing him in. Thoughts, memories -- everything was driven from his head as he pulled back and then sunk into him again, feeling every ridge, every fluctuation of his body.

The Warrior's eyes were shut, sweat beading across his forehead, running down his face and collecting in the hollow of his throat as Kain pulled his body up against his own, scraping his elbows against the stone floor of the cave, but too far gone now to care.

Kain knew it would never last long -- no matter how he may previously have prided himself on his stamina, his ability to please the women of Baron who had come through his bed -- there was simply too much behind his movements, too much desperation for release and resolution. He thrust down, his climax rolling down every nerve, every synapse, leaving nothing in its wake but light that seemed to burn the flesh from his bones, erasing, if only for the moment, the memories of things past, of what he knew himself to be.

In the moments that followed, Kain lay still, his heartbeat shuddering through him. He did not withdraw from the Warrior's body; instead, he reached down, his hand still slick from the potion, and wrapped his fingers around the Warrior's own hard flesh, encircling it tightly. Kain watched his face, watched his mouth fall open and his eyes roll back in his head --

" _Kain --_ " he said, and as he did, Kain felt a near-second orgasm rush through him, his body twitching from the unexpected aftershock.

Outside, the sleet settled back into snow, soft and lovely, blanketing the landscape in its stark white beauty.

**XI.**

Later, when Kain woke, the rose-gold of dawn creeping into the mouth of the cave, he realised that for the first time he could remember, he had not dreamed.

**Author's Note:**

> This story has a sort of-sequel in [Cold Comfort](http://archiveofourown.org/works/279426) \-- it doesn't advance the plot at all, it's really more of a side story set in the same universe :) You certainly don't need to read one to get the other.


End file.
